


Control

by JordanUlysses



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8876647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanUlysses/pseuds/JordanUlysses
Summary: After the events of "The Gurnius Affair" everything goes quickly back to normal - except Napoleon can't stop thinking about Illya being in control ...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Siri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siri/gifts).



> Written for an advent calender. Also posted on tumblr.

Life went back to normal quickly, as it usually did when they had finished a mission. A few days after they arrived back in New York the tender spot of skin under Napoleon’s chin, where Illya had pressed Nexus’ cane, was gone. Illya, who had been careful around him, was slowly making sarcastic comments again, much to Napoleon’s relief. It had been part of their mission after all and they both knew that the mission always came first.

Still, something felt off and for a week or so Napoleon could not put his finger on it. Then, Sunday night, he dreamt of kneeling in front of Illya, who was towering over him, snarling. The next moment he was tied up, black leather straps around his wrists and torso, Illya’s fingers pressing at the skin under his chin. He woke up gasping and it took a few moments before he realized he had come, the blanket sticking to his skin. He groaned and got up, decidedly not thinking about what had just happened and set about changing his sheets and getting a shower.

Work kept them busy the next week and Napoleon did not have much time to think about the dream. Not that he wanted to think about it … He had always felt intrigued by those practices, but most of them seemed to have to do with pain, and he experienced enough of that in his job. And as much as the thought of giving away power to someone else excited him, he knew it wasn’t a risk he should take, especially not with a stranger. And apart from that … he didn’t know anyone he trusted enough to do this to him, with him. Except … But Illya was out of the question. He would never risk their friendship for a flimsy desire. When had he even started to think about Illya in this context? He felt deeply for his partner, of course, but while he had his fair share of lovers from the same sex, his relationship with Illya had always been platonic.

Next Friday he sat up a date with one of the secretaries, determined to get his mind off this dream. Sarah and he spent a wonderful evening, but in the end she asked him to bring her home, kissing his cheek in front of the door. It was probably the better outcome, affairs inside of work never ended well. He left his car parked in her street and then wandered through Soho, his mind pleasantly muted by wine and food. He stopped in front of a bar, determined not to go in. He had looked up a few addresses in the last couple of days, just out of curiosity. It really wasn’t a good idea, but eventually he entered anyway.

The room was big, a live band playing at one end, the dance floor half filled. He found a free seat at the bar, ordering a martini. He felt a bit lost, not sure how to go about this. Was he even dressed properly? Was a suit saying hey, I want to be dominated? He sighed into his drink.

“Is this seat taken?”  
Napoleon slowly looked up. A beautiful woman stood at his side, a red dress showing off all the right parts of her body, blonde hair tumbling down her back. There was something of Angelique in the tilt of her head, the timbre of her voice. He swallowed hard.  
“Sure. May I buy you a drink?”  
“You may indeed”, she sat down and he gestured to the bartender, who seemed to know her and already prepared a cocktail. 

“Now”, she took her glass when it was done and sipped at the liquor, turning her attention towards Napoleon. “I haven't seen you around here before.”  
“No, it's my first time”, he said, admiring her frame. She chuckled. “And is it your first first time? You do know where you are, right?”  
“Yes”, he replied, softly. “And … yes”, as much as he hated to admit his inexperience, he knew that he should at least try to make this as safe as he could.  
She hummed approvingly. “I do love me a virgin”, and then laughed when she saw his look. “Don't worry, darling, I can take care of you”, she leaned forward, her voice going quiet. “What are you interested in?”  
“I don't want pain”, he answered, just as quietly. “I just … want to give up control.”  
She studied his face. “Alright. What's your name?”  
“Napoleon.”  
She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “It really is.”  
She chuckled again and then closed the gap between them, her lips brushing over his for a moment. “Then come with me, Napoleon”, she got up, holding out her hand for him and he took it, leaving some money on the counter and followed her into the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Her apartment was only a few blocks away, but when they arrived his excitement had turned into nervousness. Still, he was determined to pull this through, to finally see how it would feel, without having to fear for his life at the same time. So after they had discarded their coats he followed her into the bedroom. She turned around to him, her face suddenly hard.

“Your safeword”, she requested.  
His mind was blank for a moment. Safeword … right, that was probably a good idea. He took a deep breath. “Red”, it seemed easiest and she nodded her approval.  
“You are not to talk unless you are spoken to, and when you do, you will address me as Miss. Is that clear?”  
“Yes Miss”, he said, feeling a strange sense of calm settling in his stomach.  
“Take off your clothes.”  
He set about the task quickly, putting his shirt and trousers over a chair. The air in the room was a bit chilly and it felt awkward, standing there naked, in front of a stranger. Her gaze was steady, taking in his body and he nearly covered himself before thinking better of it.

“Kneel on the bed”, she said, and he complied, the position familiar, yet strange in this new context. She stepped up to the bed, standing in front of him and reached out to pet his hair, her nails scratching over his scalp. He could feel it shivering down his body, goosebumps appearing on his skin. She chuckled lowly and then dipped his chin up, looking into his eyes. “I will tie you up now. Lie down.”

He felt his stomach drop at that, knowing that he should protest, that he should not let her restrain him. What if she was THRUSH? Or some other enemy? What if he was just making the biggest mistake of his life? But he laid down nevertheless, stretching his arms above his head and grabbed the headboard tight. This was what he was here for after all, and if he didn’t do this now, he would always wonder. She had taken some leather straps from a drawer, brown, not black, he noted, and wrapped them around his wrists, securing them tightly. He gave them a tug, finding that they would not give, even though they did not bite into his skin when he held still.

She chuckled again, the sound like honey and then straightened her back, slowly pulling down the zipper on the side of her dress. He watched the fabric slide down, revealing creamy skin, a pair of wonderful round breasts and finally blonde curls further down. “Do you like what you see?”, she asked.  
“Yes Miss”, he replied, his mouth dry.  
“Good. You are very good so far.”  
He smiled, a bit helplessly. It was ridiculous, to feel pride at praise like that, but he did.

She climbed on the bed, sitting beside him and stroke over his cheek, her fingers brushing over his lips. He kissed them and then opened his mouth when she pressed against it. She slipped them into his mouth and he sucked, circling them with his tongue. He realized they hadn’t even properly kissed and that thought only made it more exciting. She pulled her fingers out slowly after a while, stroking over his chin and then down his neck, for a moment pressing against his windpipe, cutting of his breath – oh, and how he suddenly wished she would continue, but her hand moved further down, nails scratching over his shoulders and chest, fingertips circling his nipples, which hardened under the touch.

She continued her exploration after a moment, further down, ignoring his cock which lay hard against his leg. He hadn’t even realized he was hard, he had been so focused on being touched, on the sensations her fingers ignited all over his body. She bent down and his breath stopped for a moment, but she kissed his left thigh, nipping at the soft skin. Then, she suddenly bit into it and he yelped undignified. She glanced up at him. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Are you alright?”  
He thought about it for a moment. It had surprised him, but hadn’t really hurt. “Yes Miss”, he said.  
“Good”, she kissed the spot she had just bitten and then, just like that, took his cock in her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He moaned helplessly as she began to move her hand, watching his face intently for his reactions. Everything tightened, his desire sharp and urgent and he whimpered, not able to hold on … When she drew her hand away, watching him calmly. He was panting hard, his eyes closed. Just a moment longer, and he would have …

He felt her fingers dancing over his chest. “You will only come when I allow it. Because who is in control?”, she asked.  
“You are, Miss”, he replied, without thinking.  
“Good.”  
He opened his eyes and saw a fond smile on her lips. She reached over him and opened the drawer of her nightstand, pulling out a condom. She opened the package, slipping it over his erection with ease. Then, she straddled his hips, slowly sinking down on him. It was warm and wet, and he realized that all of this must have excited her as well. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. She sighed when she had settled down, licking over her lips and then pushed herself up again, holding his gaze.

She settled into a slow rhythm, squeezing around him, and he could feel his desire growing again, the need hot in his belly. He tried to breathe slowly, to not get lost in the sensations. He wanted to remember this moment – his hands tied against the headboard, the leather digging into his skin when he pulled at them helplessly. Her weight pinning him comfortably against the mattress. Her expression, softened by now, strands of hair falling over her face, her lipstick smeared at one side, her pupils blown wide. She looked beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to reach out, to touch her. The way his cock nearly hurt by now, but she had not given permission, so he had to hold on …

And still, something was missing. As wonderful as the moment was and as much as he enjoyed it, it wasn’t quite right. Illya, he thought, it should be Illya above me, controlling me …  
It must have shown on his face because she stopped moving and took his face in her hands. “How are you doing?”, she asked, and he shook his head, unable to answer.  
“Tell me”, her voice hardened, and somehow it was just what he needed. “I was thinking of … this is wonderful, but …”  
“But?”  
“There’s … this person”, he said carefully.  
“I should be insulted”, she raised an eyebrow and then stroke soothingly over his cheek. “Are you in a relationship with this person?”  
“No”, he said. “And I wouldn’t want to risk our friendship. But I can’t stop thinking about this, with him …”, he realized too late what he had said, but she only smiled, a bit sadly.  
“But you are enjoying this?”  
“Yes Miss. I do.”  
“So, you want to continue?”  
He swallowed and then nodded.  
“Good”, she started to ride him again and he concentrated on her, on this very moment.

Her movements became frantic after a while, and he too felt close, but he pulled against the restraints, the pain helping him to stay on the edge. She came with a low moan, convulsing around him and then she leaned down and finally, finally kissed him and then she whispered against his lips “now” and he came as well, for a moment everything going black.

When he came back again she had untied his wrists and gotten rid of the condom, stretching out at his side.  
“How was that for your first time?”, she asked.  
“It was … it was wonderful.”  
She nodded. “I enjoyed it as well.”  
They lay in silence for a while and then he thought of something.  
“I do not even know your name.”  
“Samantha, but my friends call me Sam.”  
“Thank you, Sam”, he replied softly. “For everything.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On Saturday he woke up early, feeling refreshed and full of energy. He actually went jogging, enjoying the morning air and then started to rearrange his bookshelf, a long postponed task. By lunch the drive he felt had turned into nervous energy and he found he wasn’t hungry. He pulled out some files he had brought from work, but after an hour gave up again, not able to concentrate. He wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong, last night had been such a good experience and he had felt amazing in the morning. And now … he sat in his living room, books still piled around him, his papers strewn all over the table and for the first time in ages he felt like crying. And he did, first without really realizing that tears were running down his face and then his whole body shook under the force of his sobs. He curled up on the couch, not able to stop, to think clearly …

He must have fallen asleep because he jerked awake when his doorbell rang. Once, twice and then after a pause once again. Illya. He scrambled to his feet and only when he had opened the door and saw the surprise on Illya’s face, carefully masked the next second, he remembered how he probably looked.

“Napoleon”, there was worry in Illya’s voice.  
“What is it?”, he asked.  
“I wondered if you would like to come for a walk. The weather is so nice today, but maybe it’s not the best idea.”  
Napoleon took a shaky breath.  
“Not really, sorry.”  
“What happened?”, Illya asked and Napoleon all but deflated under his gaze.

Instead of an answer he stepped aside and Illya went into the living room, sitting down on the couch, politely ignoring the chaos. Napoleon got him a drink and then walked the length of the room, not able to sit still.  
“What happened to your wrists?”, Illya asked.  
Napoleon looked down. He had rolled up his shirt and noted for the first time the angry red lines around them.  
“Nothing”, he said and continued his walking. Illya watched him for a while.  
“Sit down”, he said eventually and Napoleon found himself walking over to the couch, sitting down beside his partner.  
“And now tell me”, Illya reached out to touch his arm and he could feel it all the way down to his bones. He shook his head. “I can't”, he whispered.  
“Why not? We are friends. You can tell me everything.”  
“Not this, not … you wouldn’t … you’d judge me, despise me …”  
“Napoleon”, Illya sounded very serious now and he looked up at him, feeling like crying again. “Napoleon, I could never despise you. No matter what you do”, he reached up and cupped Napoleon’s cheek in his hand. It was soothing and Napoleon leaned forward, Illya’s arm coming around his back, until he was nestled against his partner, his face pressed against his shoulder. Illya stroke slow circles over his back and Napoleon managed to breathe deeply again.

“Now tell me”, Illya prompted.  
“It’s … it’s because of what happened, during the Gurnuis affair.”  
“Oh? But …”, Illya cut himself off. “I am sorry for what I had to do to you.”  
“No, no, I don’t mean that. That doesn’t matter. It’s … shameful”, he whispered, and it really was, having wet dreams about his partner, wanting to be dominated, to be told what to do …

“Napoleon”, Illya said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Tell me”, there was an edge in his voice now and Napoleon knew it was probably just because Illya was worried about him, so he shouldn’t … he really shouldn’t … “I went to this bar”, he whispered, “and there was a woman and I asked her … I asked her to take control.”  
He did not look at Illya, turning his face against his shoulder again. “Alright”, Illya said slowly, “but what has that to do with Gurnius?”  
“I can’t stop thinking about … you … talking to me like that, and being like that with me …”, he wasn’t even sure Illya could understand him, so quiet was his voice. The seconds passed slowly and eventually Illya said, “Oh.”  
He resumed rubbing circles into his back. “So, you went to recreate that? Did that woman hurt you?”, there was anger in his voice now and Napoleon shook his head. “No, I told her I don’t want pain. It’s not about that.”  
“It’s about …”, Illya said. “Control”, Napoleon finished. “And not just … it’s you. I want you to … control me. And it was good, with her, but it wasn’t perfect …”  
“Like it would be with me.”  
“Yes”, he admitted, feeling like his heart was laid bare. “And now you surely despise me and I can’t blame you, I can’t …”  
“Stop it.”  
Napoleon looked up at that, expecting to see disgust in his partner’s face, but there was only gentleness and … something he could not name. Illya cupped his cheek again and then leaned forward, kissing him gently. Napoleon froze under the touch, but after a moment he put his arms around Illya, desperately holding on to him.

“You blockhead”, Illya whispered when they parted, “don’t you know that I would do anything for you?”  
“But … but this …”  
“This is part of you”, Illya shrugged, kissing him again. “And I care for every part of you.”  
“I love you too”, he whispered and Illya pulled him close.


End file.
